


Eliza Screamed

by A_A_Inc



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Death, Overdose, Self-Harm, Suicide, dont be like them, i was reading an thing and i had to write this, kinda based on something else?, no hapiness, really death, this is what happens when authors leave me on a cliffhanger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_A_Inc/pseuds/A_A_Inc
Summary: Death and angst. This is loosely based off of http://archiveofourown.org/works/7967545 that beautiful thing. basically just major character death, actually.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TulliusTrash (libroslunae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/libroslunae/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I'd Shoot the Sunshine into My Veins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967545) by [TulliusTrash (libroslunae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/libroslunae/pseuds/TulliusTrash). 



> @TulliusTrash (libroslunae)
> 
> #justpain

            Alex walked around the apartment he shared with his boyfriend anxiously. The ring in his pocket weighed heavily, and despite all the evidence saying that John would say yes, he still was very nervous. He loved John more than anything else. He knew that. He knew that John loved him. So why was he so nervous? He sighed, and decided to go take a nap. He was exhausted, and John wasn’t supposed to be home for a few hours anyway.

            John walked into the apartment quietly. It wasn’t that late, but he felt awful. He had failed to save a patient in the ER today, a little girl. It should have been easy, but Charles Lee, one of the nurses, handed him the wrong antiseptic. John should’ve checked the bottle. It was his fault for not checking it, really, but He gave the girl an allergic reaction, and by the time they realized what the problem was and injected the epinephrine, it was too late. She was dead. He walked into his bedroom and smiled a little to see his boyfriend sleeping. Alex was cute asleep, even if he didn’t know it. Alex always stayed up for him though. Waited for him, comforted him when things were bad. He could’ve used that tonight, but he didn’t have it in him to wake him up, but he felt a little better when Alex unconsciously wrapped his arms around John.

            It was around three thirty, and  John had dissolved into a shaking ball of anxiety. Neither he nor Alex, usually so attentive, had noticed his failure to take his meds the morning before. John slipped out of Alex’s sleeping arms and went into the bathroom. The only thing he could think of was his desperation to pay for what he’d done to that girl. He deserved to bleed for what he’d done to her- and he would, he decided. The blade stung, but it was cold and clean and clinical, the preciseness cutting through the fog in his mind bit by bit. He watched the blood well up from each cut, watched it drip onto the bathroom floor, staining the tiles crimson. His hands hadn’t shook while he’d done that, and neither did they shake as he took out the numerous pills from his hidden stash in the bathroom. The stash was old- a forgotten relic of his pain- but he was able to scoop out pills easily. He put them in his pocket and walked out, closing the door gently behind him.

            Alex awoke at three past four, and rolled around searching for his personal heater. The cold bed was enough to wake Alex up. He yawned, deciding to get some water in the on suite bathroom to wake up before starting one of John and Alex’s invariably corny movie sessions at whatever ridiculous time AM it was. He stepped up to the sink, the dampness underfoot not registering as more than spilled water until he flipped on the light to clean it up. There was blood on the floor. Blood on the counter. On the toilet seat. On the knife next to the shower. Alex panicked. It looked like a murder scene.

            It took Alex exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds for Alex’s breathing to return to normal, he was counting. He needed to find John. He needed to find Jonh before anything happened. Before there wasn’t any John to find. He slipped on some shoes, ignoring the blood on his feet,  _ John’s blood _ , and grabbed his car keys. He basically ran down the stairs.

            He had to wait another thirty-eight seconds before he could drive. He drove all over, looked everywhere he could imagine. He didn’t see John. His heart dropped out of his body as he considered one other place John might’ve gone to. He pulled the car up in front of an abandoned building, rushing up the familiar stairs, and breathed out a relieved sigh to see John’s silhouette outlined against the starry sky. He sat down next to John, and grabbed his hands. Words weren’t needed. Alex knew that John was ok, and that he would be ok. He put his arm around John’s shoulder and they watched the sky until it faded into the beginnings of morning. John’s sketchbook sat, closed, in his lap, the pen clipped to the cover. Alex gently shook his shoulders. “Time to go?” He waited. No response. “John?” Nothing. He looked more closely at his boyfriend’s face, the ring still in his pocket growing heavier by the second. John’s face was pale. He looked drained of energy, devoid of life. Alex reached a hand into the pocket of John’s jacket, heart filling with dread. He pulled out two or three pills. He retched off the side of the building. He cried and threw up and cried some more, holding John’s cold body loosely in his arms. He looked off the edge of the building. Maybe John hadn’t had the wrong idea after all.

* * *

 

            Eliza sat up in bed, stretching. It was almost ten o’clock. She had been awake for a little while, Maria’s getting up to shower quietly had almost put her back to sleep, but the hair dryer had sealed the deal. Eliza was awake. Maria was finishing her makeup, and Eliza turned on the t.v., absently channel flipping, when a news story caught her eye. She recognised the building.  That building had been where she’d introduced Alexander to John, on a fourth of July night, and all of their friends had watched the fireworks together. That reminded her that she needed to text Alex and ask how his proposal had gone. The t.v. interrupted her train of thought. “-thought to be a double suicide, two young men were found dead this morning near this building. The causes of death appear to be overdose on prescription medication by the one found at the top of the building, and severe head trauma and a broken neck for the one at the bottom. This note” a picture of a note reading “I’m sorry, John” with a ring that looked eerily familiar to Eliza placed on it flashed across the screen briefly. “Was found next to the person found at the top of the building. While their identities are still unknown, we ask that if you recognise either of these men that you contact the authorities. Pictures of John, his face drained of blood and energy and everything that made him  _ John _ , and Alex, still and silent, appeared on the screen. Eliza’s hand  clenched on the remote, pausing the television. Eliza screamed.


End file.
